Am I A Narcissist?

Am I a narcissist?

I’ve asked myself that for years—

not from certainty,

but from longing.

A longing to understand whether the patterns I once named as hurt

were rooted in something deeply disturbing

or simply the parts of me I hadn’t healed yet.

I’ve Googled it.

I’ve wondered about it in therapy.

I’ve asked myself quietly in the dark

and out loud on long drives.

And every time, the answer has come back to me,

in the voice of every person and professional who knows me:

No.

The very asking reveals something else entirely.

But I wasn’t always so sure.

Because when I look back at earlier versions of myself,

I understand why the question ever existed.

I have an ego.

I’m competitive in that quiet, inward,

I want to be my best sort of way.

I take a lot of selfies.

And I wear a mask at times.

(We all do.)

So, I found myself asking:

Am I a narcissist?

Because when I think back, I can see moments where I acted in ways that looked like the traits—

self-protective, self-centered, avoidant,

times when empathy slipped out of reach,

all rooted in a fragile sense of worth I didn’t yet know how to hold.

There was a time—just a few years ago while in a decade-long relationship—

when I was emotionally unavailable,

when my avoidant attachment style was practically a fortress.

It was a relationship full of chemistry and chaos, adventure and heartbreak,

sobriety and relapse,

and more endings and beginnings than I can count.

Every breakup became an invitation to shut down.

I boxed up my feelings.

I threw away photos

as if erasing evidence could erase emotion.

But feelings return.

We returned.

And the cycle repeated,

woven from wounds neither of us understood how to mend.

Over those ten years, I faced myself.

I learned emotional availability.

I learned to sit with discomfort instead of running from it.

I learned to tell the truth about my part.

And I can admit now:

I blamed him for almost everything.

I leaned on the role of victim.

I rarely held myself accountable.

So… am I a narcissist?

No.

What I see now is this:

I have been selfish.

I have protected my ego instead of my heart.

I have hurt people.

I have been avoidant.

I have crafted stories that made me innocent

when the truth was more complicated.

And still—

I have done the work.

I continue to do the work.

Not because I am flawless.

Not because I have transcended anything.

But because I’m human.

And healing is a practice, not a destination.

And as for where I am now—

I feel like a woman stepping out of a long hallway

into a wider, brighter room.

Not done.

Not perfect.

But creation in motion—

and committed to continuing the work

every single day.